


A Son(g) of Ice and Fire

by knownothinv



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: R Plus L Equals J, bookverse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:07:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28571244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knownothinv/pseuds/knownothinv
Summary: Sansa had no idea of when she started to have feelings for Jon. The bigger they got, the longer they seemed to exist for, to a point she was sure it had started with Alayne. And now he is leaving.Post-ADWD bookverse fic, although it better explores events that will probably only happen in A Dream of Spring.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 39
Kudos: 91





	1. South

**Author's Note:**

> I could only wish to finish such an incredible story as A Song of Ice and Fire; but after reflecting for a long time about it, I decided to give it a try. I'll try to explain events like Jon's resurrection, how Sansa arrives at Winterfell, how Jon finds out about his parentage, what happens to Young Griff, to Stannis and other characters. Most of the times, the solution I gave to these problems are based on theories I read. I will try to link so you can read them. Some theories are very likely to be canon, others not so much, but they fitted better in the story.  
> I won’t promise I won’t make mistakes, especially because I haven’t read ASOIAF for a while and because English is not my first language.  
> I suck at summaries, and I also don’t want to reveal much. But please give it a try!

"Jon, don't go."

The Northern houses and Jon’s men requested the same thing, but Jon was deaf to them all. After the news about Stannis, Jon had decided to go South. The decision was communicated at a meeting in the evening, and even with the protests, it was agreed that Jon would leave the next day, alone, towards King’s landing.

Sansa couldn’t believe his words when he came to say goodnight. He did that almost every night, and Rickon would stay up until Jon showed up. Tonight, however, Jon took too long and the boy was already asleep. Sansa had sat in a chair by his side, worried about what could possibly cause the meeting to last so long. Now she understood, as tears came to her eyes at the thought of what Jon’s departure actually meant – his death.

“Jon, please. Daenerys defeated Aegon, Stannis and his men were killed. Shireen was burned alive!”

She knew what happened to Stannis meant bad news for the North. Stannis was their king, the one they supported among the others who didn’t seem to stop appearing. He and Jon had conquered their home back from the Boltons; and, as a result, the North had sworn loyalty and Shireen had been promised to Rickon. But now…

“Sansa... There is no other way.”

Jon’s plans of going South didn’t make any sense to her. She knew he was the first to go against Stannis’ plans when he decided to attack Daenerys. But nothing Jon said could change his mind, he was certain that it was the best time to attack the Queen. In normal circunstances, he could have been right. Daenerys had to be weaker after the battles against Aegon, his army and House Martell. But he was wrong. The only fruitful thing that came out of his arguments with Jon was that most of the Northern army had stayed in Winterfell. _Them I could save,_ Jon thought every night, as he imagined Shireen burning and shame ran throughout his body because he had failed to protect this child, as he had failed his brothers and Arya.

Jon’s heart ached when he realized Sansa was crying.

_He is going to leave me. It is just me and him, but now…Gods, why?_

“This doesn’t mean I am not coming back” He managed to say “I’ll try to reason with her.”

She gave him a hopeless look. “What could you possibly offer her that would please her? Aegon wanted to marry her, and she didn’t think twice before killing him!”

And then it hit her. 

“Oh Gods. You are going to ask her in marriage.”

But it also didn’t make sense. Jon wasn’t king. Jon was… She was not sure of what Jon was. He wasn’t Lord Commander anymore, not since what happened at the Night’s Watch. He wasn’t the King beyond the Wall. And he wasn’t King in the North. Yet, he acted like all of those things at once. She knew about Robb’s will, the entire North did. Jon had claimed it wasn’t valid, since Ser Davos had found Rickon alive and brought him back home. _Robb only meant for me to be King when he thought his family was dead._ It was not only the righteous thing to do, to refuse the tittle, but the smartest one, avoiding conflict with the man who helped him get his home back. To solidify the alliance between Stannis and the North, Shireen and Rickon would wed when he turned old enough.

Even though Jon was the one who suggested it, he was also the one who hated the idea the most. Shireen was a sweet girl, and Jon wanted to believe he was going to raise Rickon to be kind enough not to mock her scars, but Rickon was so young… What right did he have to force him into this arrangement? But winter was here, and sometimes Jon doubted that any of those arrangements would get done. This time, he hated to be right – Shireen didn’t make it to spring.

“It is not my plan.” was Jon’s answer. Sansa hoped he didn’t see how much the idea of him marrying someone else made her sick.

She had to laugh at herself. _Someone else_. As if he could ever marry her.

“Then what is your plan, Jon? Riding South alone?”

“I can’t risk taking other men with me”

“So you admit this is a dangerous plan that could only get you killed!”

Jon wasn’t expecting such resistance from her. He knew she wouldn’t like it, they were so close now... But he had to do it. He had wanted Stannis to wait. When Aegon conquered the Iron Throne, taking it from the Lannisters, he was not worried. Men from the South can’t survive a war in the North during the Winter. If he decided to attack the North to take what he claimed his, he wouldn’t make north the Neck. But when news from Daenerys and her dragons arrived, it was a different story. _If she wanted, she could be here in a few days, maybe less,_ he thought. He also thought the North couldn’t endure a war against three dragons, not when a more important war was close. And, in a more idealistic place in his mind, Jon couldn’t help but think about putting those dragons to a better use. How much death he could spare with them. It wasn’t about a throne anymore. It was about the Great War.

“Sansa. I am going South” He said with the voice he usually used with his men. He had used it hours ago, at their meeting. His black brothers, the wildlings, even those old men from the Northern houses had hated the idea of losing Jon, and it had led to a heated argument about leadership, since Jon was, although not formally, Rickon’s regent as Warden of the North. It had been decided that Ser Davos would take his place.

“The men in my family don’t do well in the capital.”

“Then I’m glad I’m not your family.” He replied. He knew it was a harsh thing to say, and he almost regretted it as he saw the pain in her eyes, but he would say what he had to say to convince her.

***

Despite their argument, she was there the next morning when he left, with a good horse and some gold in his bag. He was wearing simple clothes, since his plan was traveling undercover, but black as usual. She noticed Longclaw wasn’t around his waist. Yet, he still looked like a Stark, and his glance and posture as demanding as a king’s.

He smiled shyly at her and then grabbed Rickon in his arms. She heard him telling the boy that he would be gone for a while, and that he had to be a good boy and protect his sister. It still amazed her how good Jon was with kids, specially Rickon, raising him as pretty much his own. She was expecting Rickon to cry and give Jon a hard time as they said goodbye, but as Jon told him he needed to be brave and look after her, Rickon just nodded.

_Stop thinking about him as the father of your children._

Jon let Rickon go and approached her.

“Anything you need, talk to Ser Davos.” He started. _What I need is that you stay with me. Safe. In our home._ “Take care of Rickon. And the North. It is yours now.”

“You are a Stark to me, Jon. You are my family.” She said, grabbing his hand and intertwining with hers. _Can he feel it? How they seem to belong together._ She allowed herself to think so, when he looked down and back at her eyes, intensively.

She knew no more words could come out of her mouth after that without her crying, so she said nothing else as he kissed her forehead and left.

Tears fell down her face nevertheless when he disappeared in the horizon.

***

Seeing him go reminded her of when they saw each other for the first time, after all of those years.

She was nervous for weeks while traveling north. She had no idea what he would look like now, all those from her childhood seemed to vanish before her eyes every time she tried to imagine them. As if she were too dirty now to see them. But she knew he was her family, and that Rickon was safe back home, and she knew there was a home to go back to.

As the news from the South and the North arrived, Littlefinger didn’t have much of a choice but to reveal Alayne’s true identity. Cersei was gone, as he thought she would be by now, but he couldn’t have seen this new heir, Aegon, coming. He had to admire Varys for his plan.

Littlefinger had thought about offering Sansa to Aegon, but his denial to marry Arianne Martell was a hint that he was saving himself for the Dragon Queen. And, to make it worst, Tyrion Lannister was still alive, he was Hand of this powerful Queen and death seemed to be nowhere near him.

It annoyed Petyr to see all his plans fall apart. Sansa should be married to Harrold Hardyng by now. More than a year ago they were dancing in the halls, Alayne using the tricks he taught her to seduce him. It would work, he already saw the way he looked at her – and how could it be any different? Sansa was an unmatched beauty, even more then Catelyn was at her age. But the news about Winterfell, the position of her bastard brother as Lord Commander; all of that had shaken her to her core, and Littlefinger knew that if he wanted to keep her on his side, he couldn’t hide her for longer.

Lord Baelish was aware that Stannis was the wrong horse to bet on in this war. He didn’t stand a chance against Aegon and his strong army, and Daenerys and her dragons. But Sansa’s claim was getting weaker every day: Rickon was back, Jon was next in line due to Robb’s will, Sansa was still a Lannister to many, the North had to back Stannis and Aegon would be no longer available to wed. And with Cersei and the Boltons gone, Sansa pressured Petyr to go home – she was no longer haunted for murder by the queen, why did she have to hide? Petyr didn’t believe she has wild enough to run away, but his certain was getting weaker.

Perhaps it was the best choice to deliver her to her half-brother, as a sign of good will, making him forever in debt with Baelish. Perhaps it was better to wait for him to die, as he probably would with so many wars to face ahead. Perhaps he could turn the Northern houses against him, or even against young Rickon. And, after all, little boys die easily during the Winter.

However, Jon Snow was different from what he thought he would be. Petyr knew the boy had to be smart, to rise without any name, much like Petyr had himself. But he figured he was nothing but a great warrior, something even Robert Baratheon had accomplished in his youth.

But all of those myths, mixed stories and surreal events surrounded the bastard. Had he truly died and came back to life? Jon found it funny when people asked him that, and he denied, saying he was only injured in that fateful day at the Watch. The truth didn’t matter though – it was what the common people said, and that turned Jon into this charismatic, respected leader. And Robb’s will… It changed everything. What was only a small worry, that the people could choose to crown a bastard, ruining his control over the North through Sansa, now had a legitimate support.

Jon was hard to read. That scared Littlefinger more than any piece of paper. He could sense that the boy was ambitious, and that meant that, despite his resemblance to Ned, his honor wasn’t blind. Yet, he was loyal enough to inspire loyalty, which made him a leader and an influence even to Stannis.

And last, but not least… His relationship with Sansa.

The news that her brother was Lord Commander had driven Sansa to think about him every time she had a minute to step outside from Alayne’s mask. Soon she realized maybe she was thinking about him all along, mirroring his behavior to build Alayne’s character. She wanted to be brave enough to run to him, and she knew that is what Arya would have done. But she knew it was risky, and she wasn’t sure Jon could help her. After all, the Night’s Watch is supposed to be neutral, and Cersei still wanted her head.

But then, as time passed, the marriage to Harry was becoming more of a reality, and when the news arrived that Winterfell was back to a Stark's hand, even if a bastard's hand, she couldn’t take it any longer. Maybe she could reveal herself in the Vale, maybe she could escape to Winterfell, maybe she could try to send Jon a raven. It didn’t matter – her hair would be red once again.

Littlefinger had decided to make it easy for her, and a few days after her fifteenth name day, she was home. It was snowing, like she imagined in her dreams. Familiar faces flashed before her eyes: her best friend Jeyne, Alys Kastark, other lords. And then Jon, with a red-haired child following his steps. Even though everything was compatible to her dreams, Jon’s embrace exceeded them by miles.

He was tall, maybe taller than father, picking her up from the ground a little when they hugged. He had a scar in his face, that she had loved from the very minute she noticed it. _Strong and brave._ His grey eyes made him look older than he was, made her wonder how much the world had hurt him. And when he whispered “Welcome home, Sansa”, his voice had a deep tone that would hunt her at night.

Slowly they got used to each other company. She found out most of the things about his time at the Wall through the wildlings, as he was always so reluctant to talk about it. At first, she couldn’t understand how Jon could trust these people, but perhaps the most important thing that she learned about Jon is that his heart was always in the right place. She didn’t know much about his war, she was scared of Old Nan’s stories as a kid, but soon it was clear for her that the Others were Jon’s priority.

He was quiet, even more than he was a child, and even now, when she could consider them close, their time together consisted mostly of comfortable silences, as they ate together, or sat together as she sewed or read and he made his plans and managed their home. Sometimes, though, he would ask her about King’s Landing, and her time in the Vale. Jon was a good listener, and he knew when to ask and when to stop. Things she never thought she could talk about were shared with him, and he also knew how to comfort her without making her feel weak.

Only a week after she arrived, she got courage to visit her parents’ chamber. She would look at the room, and her dad’s figure would appear before her eyes, and his head would fall out of his neck in front of her. Soon she was crying, maybe more than she ever had, for his death. Jon found her there. They hadn’t yet talked about the past, but he held her as if he understood. That was the first time she felt loved and cared for in years.

When she told him about all her marriage proposals, he caught the sad sarcasm in her voice and said:

“Sansa, I am sorry. I know you have always wanted… A happy ending.”

“That was before. Before everything.”

“I still hope you get it. You deserve it. And I’ll try my best to make it happen for you.”

She didn’t want to let that door open again, allow herself to have hope, to wish for the happy ending Jon was talking about. When he said the words, she wanted to disappear. She didn’t want Jon to think she was still that girl, and she didn’t want to be her. But being around him made all of those feelings flourish, no matter how hard she tried to rip them out. And then he said things like _I’ll try to make it happen for you_ , and now not only she wished for a happy ending, but placed him in there. _And now he is leaving, to that horrid place, to never return._

She hated how much Jon hid things from her. She barely knew the truth about him, about those rumors. His closest friends, those she thought could know the truth, said Jon was badly injured in Castle Black, stabbed by his own brothers, and that they never thought he would make it. But that didn’t explain why people said he had died and came back. When Sansa asked him directly, Jon repeated the same story his friends told her, adding when he realized she wouldn’t let it go: “The only thing that matters is that I am here now.”

Sansa had no idea of when she started to have feelings for Jon. The bigger they got, the longer they seemed to exist for, to a point she was sure it had started with Alayne. She convinced herself for while that it was only an extension of the love she had for her childhood. Then she convinced herself it was the love for a brother. But now she knows it is more.

 _Have I spent too much time with the Lannisters? Have they broken me?_ She felt shame, and she wondered how much more she would be punished in her life. Her half-brother… What would her mother think of her? Her mother, who had hated Jon so much. _Mother, who is dead, like all of them except me and Jon. And Rickon._

Rickon, instead of being the living reminder of the fact that his two siblings shared blood, just added to her fantasies. The way Sansa and Jon ruled Winterfell together was enough to create comparations to the way her parents ruled. She heard it from the lords, she heard from the old maids, how much they mirrored Ned and Catelyn, not only in appearance, but in manners. But raising Rickon together had turned an alliance that could be purely politics into something with love. When they watched him play with Shaggydog, when Jon taught him a lesson she knew he had learned from father… Her heart felt so warm she thought it could melt away the snow.

 _What about what would Jon think of this?_ Jon was so hard to reach. How could she blame him, after all of the things he has endured? She was certain he would think her deprived, sinful. He was only looking after her, and she had mixed everything up. But sometimes… Sometimes he would smile at her, or hold her, or just look at her, so much depth in his eyes, and it almost felt real.


	2. The song of ice and fire

In a way, Jon was glad it was a long trip. Lots of time to think, lots of things to plan. But he also knew each day meant more damage, and that damage landed on his feet. He didn’t even have Stannis to share it with anymore.

 _It has to work._ He convinced himself, every time he doubted about this decision to go South. The real war was North, yes, but first he must go South.

Stannis believe that the kingdom had to be united if the living wanted to win. Perhaps that is what Aegon and his sisters thought when they conquered the seven kingdoms. Perhaps they were just power thirsty. Which one had Stannis been, when he didn’t bend the knee to the Dragon Queen? Which one would Jon be? 

_Aegon and his sisters… My blood._ Jon thought to himself. The truth about his parentage, that once he had longed so much for. Only one of the truths about Jon. He had so many things hidden from people, so many lies that surrounded him to avoid damage, war. 

_Have you really died?_ , they would all ask him. The truth is: Jon didn’t know for sure. He was declared dead, but men have been wrong in that before. First, they decided to place his supposedly dead body in the ice cells, as he had done with corpses at the Watch before, trying to learn something about the Others. But he supposed it was too scary the idea of Jon coming back as a White walker, because three days later, they decided to burn him.

At the time, he had thought it was the pain, the pain from the fire was so intense that his body had left the coma and he had waken. Ghost hollowed, for the first time in his life, and Jon screamed, waking up and trying to escape from the fire. But even Jon, skeptical as he was, had to admit it was easy to interpret it another way. _Reborn._ Did it have anything to do with the fact he was a warg, and therefore this was his second life? He did feel like the connection was deeper now, to the point it could happen voluntarily. Did it have anything to do with the fact he had Targaryen blood?

 _Ice preserves and fire consumes. And I am the son of ice and fire. At least, that is what the poem says._ The poem Jon found in Lyanna’s tomb.

Jon’s sleep was infested by nightmares and dreams, even more after he had come back from the dead, or from a coma. He repeated over and over his dream about the crypts in Winterfell. At some point, he convinced himself that once he retook Winterfell, they would be over. But the night after the battle, as he slept in his old room, he repeated another dream.

Jon used to dream of his mother when he was a kid, so many times he could almost see her face. This time, he saw her face, and although Jon had no memories of Lyanna Stark, for she was dead before he could meet her, he somehow knew the woman who stroke his hair and sang to him was her.

 _How can Lyanna Stark be my mother?,_ he asked himself, his heart pounding faster than during battle when he woke up. No, he had to be delusional, his dreams where playing tricks on his mind. But the thought would not leave his head, and he started questioning why he had dreamed such thing. _If Lyanna Stark is my mother, who is my father?_ Soon, he realized it had to be Rhaegar Targaryen.

Jon refused to think about such an absurd for a couple of weeks, but he was each day more convinced it could make sense. It fitted the timeline of the events from Robert’s rebellion, it would be the safest way to raise the child and it would explain why honorable Ned Stark had a bastard and why he refused to talk about his mother.

It was about the same time his dreams of the crypts restarted, and Jon decided he had to go visit Lyanna’s tomb. He went there three times during the night, lighted up a candle to see her face and even brought some flowers once, and yet his dreams wouldn’t stop: in fact, they seemed to have gotten worst. He didn’t feel anything looking at her face. _This is insane, she is not my mother. Ned Stark is my father._

The fourth time he came, days later after being unsuccessful at getting any sleep, Jon decided to break the stone, looking for something he didn’t even know. It was when he found a piece of paper wrapped carefully in a wedding cloak. _Rhaegar and Lyanna were married?_ Jon had time to ask, before approaching the candle to read the poem entitled _The Song of ice and fire._

Jon could have thought it was a love poem, from Rhaegar to Lyanna, but the paper was so old it could not have been written by the prince. And it wasn’t a love story: it talked about a prince. Two of the verses were:

Born and reborn from fire and ice is the son

For his is the song, the song of prince …

There was a word missing, a word that, following the construction of the poem, rimed with “Son”.

Jon had tried his best to put Lyanna’s tumb back together, going there for nights in a row to build it back on. Even thought it was such a huge secret to discover, Jon had decided to do nothing about it. Just like regarding Robb’s will, there was no better alternative. Robb’s will meant little after what he owned to Stannis, for retaking Winterfell with him and bringing Rickon back safe. And now… Jon wasn’t even sure that what he found proved anything. The cloak could prove that Rhaegar and Lyanna were married, therefore if he was their son, he was not a bastard. But how could he prove he was their son? Or, Jon thought, _is it even true that I am their son? How have I got to this conclusion? By my dreams? Could I be so desperate that I created this story in my head?_

Jon knew better now than to crave for power. His position as Lord Commander had been his proudest moment, but it had also costed his life, or at least nearly costed. And now, this undefined status of his forced him to make even harder decisions. And yet, Jon owned to his childhood self the excitement that the perspective to be a hidden prince brought.

 _I am still a bastard, and that shall I be until the end of my days._ No matter how many chances he got to have what he had always dreamed of, there was always a reason to sacrifice it. Because he had to avoid conflict with Stannis. Because he couldn’t steal Rickon’s tittle from him, as Lady Catelyn had always suspected we would if he had the chance. Because he didn’t have enough proof. And keeping his suspicions about his parenthood as a secret meant sacrificing something else, other than lands or power. It would be the only way… _Don’t, Jon. She is your sister._

Jon wouldn’t say he was in love with Sansa Stark. He was glad she was safe, and he knew he would do anything to keep her safe, as he would for any of his siblings. By the time she arrived at Winterfell, he already knew (or suspected) about his parentage. He had heard she was living in the Vale under the name Alayne Stone, and for that Jon felt connected to her like he never had before.

One day, she gave him a pin that belonged to Lord Eddard, and said, after he first denied the gift, that he should keep it, so he would always remember her when he left for the Wall (which Jon did quite often). As he thanked her, Jon realized two things – one: he and Sansa had been ruling Winterfell and raising Rickon as an almost married couple for more than a year now; and two: Sansa Stark was in love with him.

Jon Snow wasn’t an overly confident guy, he was actually the slow type. Sansa would later suggest things about Val, Melisandre and even Alys Kastark, things that Jon could not see and things that, to him, only proved she was jealous of him. And she was family, so she could be just overprotective. But Jon was good at reading people, and Sansa’s eyes when she looked at him gave her away.

At first, he avoided thinking about it. Was it wrong? She certainly must feel like it is, she thinks he is her brother. But if she knew the truth, and if everybody knew the truth, would it be wrong? It was common for cousins to marry, but Jon figured it wasn’t that simple for them. Sansa and Jon grew up thinking they were siblings. _She thought of me as only a half-brother, we were never close,_ Jon would argue, and it was true. The fact that they were not close made her so different from his other siblings; it was like they were building their relationship from scratch now. Not even for a moment he had thought his real parentage meant that Robb, Arya, Bran and Rickon were no longer his siblings. And he knew he could never think about Arya in other way.

 _Stop it, what would they all think?_ , he then realized. Ned would forever regret not letting him die by Lyanna’s side, this baby who was clearly not his blood, but a Targaryen. _Targaryens were the ones who had incestuous relationships. I might be one after all._ He would certainly prove Catelyn right. How ungrateful did he have to be to live under their roof for all of those years, and then marry their daughter, his former sister? _Does it even matter that I could make her happy or that she would be Queen?_

 _What about me? Could she make me happy?_ , Jon asked himself. Jon did not think he was in love with Sansa, he barely had time to think about anything other than war and death these days. But he knew with all his heart Sansa would make him happy.

Leaving her was harder than he had imagined, and now he imagined he could die without ever telling her. _And that creep is still around,_ he thought, remembering how pleased Littlefinger seemed to be when Jon announced he was going South. He knew he wanted to marry Sansa to Harry Hardyng, and as if that wasn’t bad enough, Jon had a feeling the next step in his plans would be to marry her himself. _Not even if I am dead._ Jon had let it clear to Ser Davos that, if something happened to him, he had to look after Rickon and Sansa, and that he should not allow Sansa to marry without her consent. And, if it came to that, Ghost would handle it.

However, none of their feelings mattered, because Jon had decided to let the truth die with him. He could only hope he was not breaking her heart, and that one day she would love somebody else.

But everything had changed, after Stannis left for King’s landing. Foreseeing the result of the battle between the Dragon Queen and King Stannis, Jon had an idea. He thought the only man that could provide him some answers was Howland Reed. _He will know if this is all true or not._

Jon knew the answer to his question as soon as he introduced himself to the man and waited for his reaction, after arriving at Greywater Watch with some excuse about war support. Lord Reed confirmed to Jon that Ned had found Lyanna at the Tower of Joy, dying from childbirth, not a fever, and had decided to raise the kid as his own son, protecting him from Robert.

Howland Reed also knew that Ned was carrying a wedding cloak. When Jon recited him the poem that was wrapped in it, which he now knew by heart because he did not dare to carry the paper around, he questioned if Howland Reed had any idea of what the missing word could be.

“Could it be the name of the prince?”, Lord Reed guessed.

“I thought about that. I know Rhaegar named his first son Aegon, which rimes with ‘son’. Do you know if he had a name in mind for…me?”, saying the last world still felt surreal to Jon.

“No, I don’t know. But ‘son’ also rimes with ‘Jon’”

“Yes, but… Jon is not a Targaryen name. Father named me after Jon Arryn.”

“Yes, but prophecies work in unpredictable ways. Jon might not be a planned name, but it fits the song all the same.”

Howland Reed was the only one Jon had told about the poem. Jon didn’t know if Melisandre had seen something in her flames, but he was almost sure she had changed her mind about Stannis being Azor Ahai. She had not followed him South, nor she had helped Jon to convince Stannis not to go South. Sometimes Jon wondered if she was not the one who gave him the idea, knowing what the ending would be, but lying to Stannis about victory. It was the only explanation Jon could find to the fact Stannis had given in about the northern army and let them stay behind.

Ser Davos had gone with Stannis, but he came back. It looked like he had abandoned Stannis, and men believed he had done so because he realized it was a lost cause. But Jon knew Ser Davos well, and he knew it couldn’t be that. Jon figured it had something to do with Shireen, Davos must have been so devasted with her death that he couldn’t bear to stay and fight. _She told me she had dreams about dragons eating her. I should not have let her go South._ And sometimes, Jon wondered why Stannis had brought her South, if he knew it was dangerous. And he still remembered how unsurprised Melisandre was with the news.

As he traveled South, Jon let himself think about things that had no use to him, but still would matter to his younger self. Did Rhaegar and Lyanna love each other, or had he kidnaped and raped her, and Jon was the result? Was Rhaegar acting because of the prophecy or was he blind enough to believe his actions would not have consequences? Did it mean that Jon was responsible for what happened to Elia Martell and her children, his siblings? And, the most important question: what did the song mean?

 _The song talks about a prince, yes, but not the prince that was promised,_ he thought, _it talks about the son of ice and fire._ The way he saw it, those were separate things. Yes, both seemed to play a role in an important war against the darkness, but the song mentioned that the son of ice and fire was the sword against the darkness. It made Jon shiver, because those were the Night’s Watch vows.

 _Are those vows still mine?_ , he wondered. The Night’s Watch practically didn’t exist anymore. What once were only a few men were now less, because of the fight against the wildlings when Jon was injured; and because of the cold. The Wall was occupied - thanks to Jon, who did everything he could to prepare it for the Long Night - but not by Night’s Watch men, but by Wildlings and northern men.

He knew that he could always use the excuse that his vows died with him, if he assumed that he had died. He could also say that he took those vows before knowing who he truly was. But Jon was not fond of excuses, and the truth was that he stuck with the vows that mattered to him and that would get his men through the day.

 _What would get me through the day now is a meal,_ Jon thought. The Neck was behind him by now, and his supplies were over. Jon didn’t think anyone would recognize him, especially not this far from Winterfell, and his beard had grown enough to hide his features; so he stopped at a tavern to eat and maybe get another horse.

“I still think we should keep looking for the other one” said the man from the table behind the one Jon had decided to seat at.

“We wouldn’t even know where to start. Jaime, there has been months we are searching for her.”

“You are not considering how dangerous this is to me. Remember? Besides, the other one is already safe.”

“We don’t know that. We don’t know if this half-brother of hers is a good man.” Jon couldn’t hear the next name, the speaker had lowered the tone, but someone despised the half-brother in question.

“Of course she did. He is her husband’s bastard.”

“Even if he is a good man. We know the truth about Littlefinger, and he might be fooled by him, like his father, and everything will be lost.”

 _Gods._ With the mention of Lord Baelish nickname, Jon realized what they were talking about. But who is they? _Jaime as in… Jaime Lannister?_ It was the only Jaime Jon could think of, but why would Jaime Lannister be here, talking about him?

Jon tried to take a look at them covertly. It took a moment for him to notice that the man’s hair was blond, dirty as it was. Jon couldn’t tell if he was Jaime Lannister or not, there was nothing in him that matched the memory Jon had of him, arriving at Winterfell so many years ago, looking like a King. And Jon could only see the back of the other person. _The hand._

“Do you mind?”, Jon said, inviting himself to sit at their table, after making sure the man was, in fact, Jaime Lannister. The other two figures were unknown, and even though the silent one was short and looked harmless, Jon hoped this wouldn’t turn violent. Jaime didn’t have one hand, yes, but Jon knew better than to underestimate him.

“I’d rather not…” started the one who was arguing with Jaime before, and who Jon realized now was a woman.

“Nice to meet you, my lady. Jon Snow.” Jon introduced himself with a whisper, but loud enough for both of them to listen. They seemed to be frozen for a second, and then the woman moved her hand to her sword. “I hoped that that wouldn’t be necessary. And I believe I have more reasons to kill you than you have to kill me.”

“Are you truly…” the short one started to ask, but Jaime was the one who interrupted this time.

“You look a lot like them. The Starks.”

“And you look a lot like the Lannisters.” Jon added, letting his rage show trough his words.

“What are you doing this far up South?” the woman asked.

“That depends. Why are you going North?”

“How much have you listened?”, Jaime asked, when the woman resisted to answer.

“I am a good man, Jaime Lannister.”, answered Jon, and, in a way, Jaime had instantly liked him. “Why don’t you tell me why Lord Baelish is not?”

The woman introduced herself as Brienne of Tarth and the short man as Podrick Payne. They told him about Baelish’s involvement on Eddard Stark’s death, but whereas Brienne was certain they needed to go North to tell the truth, Jaime argued that they have no proof. _Why would a Stark believe a Lannister? Why would anyone believe the Kingslayer?_

The last time Jaime allowed himself to believe the Starks could ever forgive him, he almost died. Years ago, Brienne had lead Jaime to Catelyn Stark, or whatever was left of her. Brienne did not have the intention to deliver Jaime to her to die, so she tried to make a deal or give him a proper trial. Lady Stoneheart refused the trial, but eventually accepted a deal: Jaime would go back to King’s Landing and kill his own sister, Cersei Lannister.

Jaime had accepted it, and sometimes he was glad he did. Cersei had plans to blow up the entire city with wildfire, in case Aegon attacked, so much like the Mad King had ordered so many years ago. _I have nothing else left, Jaime. All of our kids are gone. All I have is power, and I’ll not lose it.,_ Cersei had said to him. Jaime did what he had to do. _My own sister, my lover._

Yet, when he came back, Lady Stoneheart refused to forgive him, and asked for his head. Then Brienne made the choice, the terrible choice between honor and what is right. She killed Lady Stoneheart.

Since then, Jaime knew she had been torturing herself for it. She became obsessed about finding the Stark girls and protecting them. Jaime tried to make her see how dangerous it was to go to Sansa. She was in Winterfell, surrounded by northerners who hated the Lannisters, even the ones who killed other Lannisters, like him and his brother Tyrion. Going there was suicide for him. The bastard boy who now answered as head of House Stark would refuse to believe him and would ask for his head, like Catelyn had.

However, to Jaime’s surprise, Jon easily believed them about Littlefinger. _He already had his suspicions,_ Jaime thought. Jon didn’t trust Littlefinger, and he wanted to see him as far as possible from his family, but the Riverlands were an important ally, so that the North would have what to eat during the Winter. He tried to extract something about Baelish from Sansa, but even though she clearly did not like him, she also wouldn’t explain why. _She might change her mind if she heard about this._

 _“_ Sansa needs to know.”

“Yes. But I don’t think she is going to be as welcoming as you were. Would it be better if you told her? When are you coming back North?"

“I don’t know” was Jon only answer, and the other three understood he wouldn’t give any details. _Where is he going? Why is he alone? Doesn’t he know it is dangerous?_

“How can we get to her?” Jaime finally gave in. _Gods, I am going to die in that freezing land._

“If you want to talk to her alone… She goes to the godswood of Winterfell every Sunday morning to pray. How you get there unseen, it is on you."

“That won’t scare her.” Jaime said, sarcastically.

“It won’t. Show her this.” Jon gave a pin to him, shaped like a wolf’s head. “Tell her I gave it to you, so she would listen to you, and believe you. If she thinks you took it from me against my will… Tell her I said I wouldn’t need it to remember her, because she is my family.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so this was hard to write lol. This chapter I had to make so many decisions that will impact the rest of the story, I am still afraid I messed up. I’ll try to explain my choices. 
> 
> *Jon’s resurrection: I left it open for interpretation a little bit for now, so he could have been just in a coma on dead. But, I tried to involve both ice and fire on his resurrection - ice from the ice cells, which preserved his body, which might explain why he doesn’t look like Lady Stoneheart. Also, the fact that he is a warg could preserve his mind; but I am not sure if he wouldn't suffer the consequences (acting more like a wolf than a man - in this case, I just made his connection stronger, but I know George is against coming back from the dead stronger, so that is why the coma is a better option, something Bran have already experienced and had the same impact on him). I don’t have any illusions that this is how it’s going to go down in the books. I actually think Shireen will be burned to bring Jon back. But I hate this idea and it wouldn’t work here. 
> 
> *Jon’s parentage: the idea of an actual song of ice and fire is original, I came up with it after reflecting about how Rhaegar mention that he wouldn’t write a song for Aegon, because his is the song of ice and fire. He was just wrong about Aegon. But the weeding cloack and placing it in Winterfell’s crypts is a famous theory. You can find it here: https://asoiaf.westeros.org/index.php?/topic/99797-a-theory-the-possibly-game-changing-secret-beneath-the-winterfell-crypts/
> 
> *Cersei’s death: according to prophecy, Cersei will be killed by a valonqar (little brother). The most popular candidate is Jaime Lannister, and I tried to make it happen here. I did not focus on his feelings about it, but I think Jaime is not so blind about Cersei anymore. Like I said, this fic focus more on things that will happen in a Dream of Spring, because things are so messy in Winds that I understand why GRRM is taking so long to finish it.  
> At the same time, it would bring an end to Lady Stoneheart, and Brienne would understand the choice Jaime had to make with the Mad King.  
> Also, according to prophecy, someone younger and more beautiful would cast Cersei down and takes all she holds dear. It is more accepted that this someone is a Queen, but I chose Aegon. You can check this theory here: https://www.reddit.com/r/asoiaf/comments/gsl8f0/theory_the_true_valonqar_that_will_cast_cersei/
> 
> Finally, I just wanted to say that I didn’t add any dream to Jon’s sleep. And I also believe Bran or Bloodraven is communicating to Jon through dreams, so that’s why he found out so many things through dreams. I hope it didn’t sound stupid or like I took the easy way out.


	3. Chapter 3

Jon still wondered if he had done the right thing by believing and helping Jaime and the other two who ride with him; and what could possibly be the outcome of this move. Unless Sansa could prove anything against Baelish, what the three had to tell her didn’t matter much politically. They couldn’t break their alliance to the Riverlands. It disgusted Jon the idea of the man who betrayed his family sleeping as a guest at their home. Littlefinger had his own lands to take care of, but he always found an excuse to visit Winterfell. To sit at their table. To follow Jon around. To touch Sansa.

Truth be told, Jon was glad he had the excuse to cut Petyr’s throat next time he saw him. _I have to go back. I can’t die._ Jon refused to look deeper at what had happened to him, and one could think the life or death experience would make him braver, not afraid of dying. However, as dramatic as it could sound, Jon couldn’t allow himself to die or fail. _Not a single soul in the seven kingdoms give a fuck about this war._ Jon had been one of them, a green boy who wanted glory, and there was nothing glamorous about eating greasy soup at the Wall, preparing for a war whose only spoil was life, not lands or titles.

He wasn’t the only one who thought that, Jon realized when he stopped at a tavern just a few weeks from King’s Landing. Jon avoided talking, especially because of his northern accent, but he couldn’t avoid this one.

“North?” he asked when he heard one of the men telling the owner they were heading North. _What would any sane men do up North? Freeze to death?_

“Yes. Are you coming from the North?” an older man who seemed to lead the group asked, and Jon nodded.

“I see. You think you can escape the Winter? You’re probably too young to remember… How a true winter is like, when the snow covers the land and freezes the lakes, no matter how South you go. If it is true what we hear from the North, and I think it is… The King will need all help he can get.”

“King? Which King?”

“The bastard Snow.”

_What?_

“I know, he wears no crown. He should, though, I don’t know what he is waiting for. In times like this, common men need a hero, they need a leader. I had thought maybe King Aegon would finally set things straight in Westeros. Yes, he was the hero type. Such a handsome young man… He had the people’s love, and we needed that now more than ever. But he is now dead, killed by his own aunt. The bastard boy will have to do. Let me tell you, young man: never in my life I thought I would fight for a bastard. The Gods should’ve sent us someone better, if not a true king, at least a true Stark.”

“He was legitimized by his brother, the Young Wolf. There is a will” Another man pointed out.

“Yes, yes… Well, there could have been nothing, and he would still be the only man. He makes the perfect hero - Lord Commander, who died and came back from the dead to find out his brother left him a kingdom. Yes, the people will follow him.” the man must have mistaken Jon’s shock with disapproval, because he continued: "Listen, what is your name?” to which he replied the first name he could think of. _I hope he gets my letter._ “Samwell,” The man repeated. “you understand the importance of being the rightful heir, of claim. Even more for southerners than for northerners, really - King’s Landing is no place for bastards. But the South has been nothing but a scenario for wars between people with a claim to the throne, no matter how small it is. Maybe it is time to stop supporting the one with the better claim and start supporting the one who will fight for us.”

“Besides, people are starving. We heard that King Jon feed his people.” Jon realized that it wasn’t actually none of the things the leader said, but he perspective of food that encouraged men to travel North. It wasn’t a total lie. Jon did his best to provide food, and Sansa was generous – even more than she should – with common people. If a woman asked something from her, caring a baby in her arms, Sansa would take it from herself to give it away. 

“Let’s hope it stays that way when people from all over the place come knocking on his door."

With the warm feeling that he was seen as King but also with the weight of the responsibility, Jon arrived at King’s Landing. He understood then why people were escaping for the North, of all places, when he got off the road and walked in the city. King’s Landing was destroyed. It smelled like death and ashes, there was no tavern opened and men looked at him like the only thing stopping them from killing Jon to steal his objects was the fact that he looked strong enough to fight back. And then Jon heard a noise that made people in the street run to the nearest house, followed by a dragon flying in the sky.

It was the first time Jon saw a dragon, and it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. _She lets them free,_ Jon thought, _to create fear._ Not only the dragons, but men who could not be from Westeros marched down the street, in a perfect rhythm. _Her army_. Jon had heard about her men, trained to perfection, not acquainted to fear or fails. But Jon could see it was a mistake to show them off. _It creates fear, yes, but it reinforces the idea that she is a foreign queen. Tyrion should have known better._ There were a lot of times Jon found himself thinking Daenerys behavior was unsuited. The move against Aegon costed her the alliance House Targaryen had in Westeros - including powerful Houses such as House Martell and House Tyrell, which sided with Aegon against Cersei. 

Jon finally arrived at the Red Keep. He could see from there what was left of the Great Sept of Baelor, destroyed by Cersei years ago. Apparently no one had the time yet to build it back up.

As Jon predicted, the guards stopped him and didn’t believe him when he said he was Jon Snow, the bastard from Winterfell, and that he wished to speak with the Queen. He said then that they should call Tyrion Lannister, Hand of the Queen. Jon was expecting a negative answer again, and he would be forced to get himself imprisoned to catch attention from someone higher in the Queen’s court, but apparently the guards weren’t fond of Tyrion, because they enjoyed the idea of making Tyrion waste his time and be fooled.

“Jon Snow. I never thought we would meet again.” Tyrion had showed up in the room Jon was told to wait at, and said after taking a good look at Jon.

“I wasn’t sure you would recognize me anymore.”

“Well, you are stronger now. The scar and the beard fit you. You must be quite something for the ladies. You can make use of that now that you left the Night’s Watch.”

“You haven’t changed.” Jon grinned. Tyrion had changed though. In appearance, his scar had damaged his face in a terrible way. But not only that. Tyrion seemed tired and lifeless. 

“I remember you as the kindest Stark. And the smartest. But you lost the title after showing up here.” Tyrion said, slipping his mind for a second that Jon wasn’t a Stark. After a while, he asked. “What are you doing here alone, Jon?”

“I’ll try to reason with the Queen, come up with an agreement. Peacefully. Bringing the army would disturb the ‘peacefully’ part.”

“Unless you are ready to bend the knee, there is no agreement.”

“I’ll do what has to be done.”

“You realize what that means? You’ll give the North to her.” without any response from Jon, Tyrion followed: “Do you even have the authority for that? We didn’t get any news from your coronation.”

“There hasn’t been any.” Tyrion opened his mouth to protest, probably to say something like _Then why are you here?_ , but Jon interrupted him. “Tyrion, I came here to talk to the Queen. I was hoping that you would help me with that.”

“Do you have anything to offer her? Can you deliver the North?”

“Yes.” 

*** 

Jon waited three days to talk to the Queen. It was a clear message: _you are under my command, you are a prisoner here._ Tyrion still came to talk to him, but Jon avoided most of the questions, and if there was something Tyrion wanted to tell him, he didn’t feel comfortable to do it in front of the guards. But Jon also thought Tyrion sent a clear message: _Daenerys is not open to negotiations, and I can’t save you._

“Queen Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, Lady of Dragonstone, Queen of Meereen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons.” Daenerys sat in the Iron Throne while a young girl introduced her. Jon had walked in the Throne room, admiring its greatness and finding it somehow funny how much effort the Queen put into showing her power and making him feel small. She was as beautiful as man have described, her silver hair shorter than woman usually wore, and her dress not matching the winter season. 

“Jon Snow.” Jon introduced himself shortly “I can’t help but wonder if a kid just starved or froze to death while you introduced yourself. There was certainly time for it.” Before one of the twenty guards could respond, Jon continued: "Besides, there is no need for such formalities between us. You are my aunt after all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry, I guess I took longer than I imagined to update and it is a small chapter. But at least I think I made a good cliffhanger! I’ll try to upgrade sooner next time. I’m also sorry because there wasn’t really any Jonsa content this chapter, except for the sweet description of how she deals with the common people. She is the queen people love <3


	4. Butterfly turned into dragons

Tyrion liked to think that nothing in the world could surprise him anymore – he had already seen and suffered everything that he was supposed to. But Jon Snow, out of all people, had just dropped the biggest secret of the Seven Kingdoms without giving any heads up.

Did Tyrion believe the boy? _It doesn’t matter. She will kill him one way or another_. It was such an incredible story Tyrion figured Jon couldn’t have made it up. Besides, it wasn’t a story that benefited him or his people – yes, it made him heir to the Iron Throne, but Aegon had been in his place a while ago and look at how things turned out for him.

The story of a lost Rhaegar’s son had been told by Aegon, and in a much better way. Jon arrived at King’s Landing without an army, without any allies – in fact, he didn’t have any as Jon Targaryen, because, according to him, the North was clueless about his paternity. When asked how he found out about it, he said ‘it was revealed to him in a dream’, and when asked about evidences, he mention a lord who traveled with Eddard Stark, _the traitor’s dog_ as Daenerys called, from the Tower of Joy. Even though Tyrion might believe Jon was Rhaegar’s son, he didn’t believe for a second he wasn’t a bastard, which made his secret even more useless. Jon insisted he was trueborn, but again his only source was his dream. It was almost like he was mocking Daenerys.

 _If she didn’t hesitate with Aegon, Jon doesn’t stand a chance._ Tyrion remembered how he tried to avoid Aegon’s fate; if not for the boy, then for the sake of stability in Westeros. He warned Daenerys that marrying Aegon could be her only shot at being accepted here. But she was convinced he was a farce. In fact, much like Jon, her only evidence against Aegon was prophecy, which almost made Tyrion laugh when Jon argued “Isn’t it the Targaryen way? Prophecies and dreams haunt us, don’t they?” when Daenerys accused him of lack of evidence.

Tyrion didn’t think Jon’s case was lost when he showed up in King’s Landing. He was by himself, which showed courage and concern for his people, and Daenerys could admire that. If he was representing the North, especially as King, a marriage could be arranged. Yes, if Daenerys liked him in this first meet, Tyrion could convince her, and maybe things would calm down. But now Jon was just another Aegon for her, and she couldn’t bring such a shame to House Targaryen, accepting a farce as a dragon, no matter how much it was needed. _He is not a threat to your claim, you will be his wife. Try to see it as a political match, nothing else, just like your second marriage was. Your people need it;_ Tyrion tried to argue, but it was useless. Now, about Jon, she said “at least Aegon had the decency to look like a Targaryen”.

Daenerys was beyond furious. Jon was locked in a cell while she decided what to do about him. She declined Tyrion’s advices, so he was now on his way to visit Jon.

“Jon, what were you thinking?” Jon looked bad. Tired didn’t cover it – he looked like he hadn’t slept at all and somehow like he was not only mentally but physically exhausted, even though the cell wasn’t big enough to move around, even if he wanted to. “I thought you said you had something to give her, the North.”

“The North is not mine to give. The North is too wild and too big to be given.” After a while, he added: “I gave her the truth.”

“What did you think it was going to happen? She was going to hug you and give her dragons to you? Have you not heard about Aegon?” Yes, Jon actually had the courage to mention he didn’t want a war – Daenerys only had to bend the knee and give her dragons for momentary use.

Tyrion remembered how Jon’s face gave nothing away at such a young age. He was worst now. Tyrion could not discover what was the outcome Jon was hoping to achieve, but he knew Jon couldn’t be as dumb as he sounded. Could he be sacrificing himself so the North would fight Daenerys? Was he doing this for the sake of ruining her reign?

Sometimes Tyrion wondered if that was not actually the best way out – Daenerys' defeat in Westeros. Daenerys had to face the fact that she was not welcomed, and that she was not ready to face Winter and those monsters people were talking about from beyond the Wall. In fact, the man for the job was clearly Jon, because of his knowledge as a Night’s Watch man. It was something Tyrion tried to bring up to help Jon, but Daenerys knew about a prophecy, about the prince that was promised, and she became convinced she was said prince, and also that, after saving Westeros, she would get the love from the people.

It was a plan, Tyrion thought, and she did fit the prophecy perfectly, but he also tried to warn her prophecies are not literal and about the dangers of becoming obsessed with it. Even if she was the true savior, it didn’t mean Jon wasn’t of use. And, of course, it worried Tyrion that she kept forgetting that it’s important not only to defeat any enemy, but to guarantee life and prosperity after the war. From what he had heard, Jon could teach her that.

“Oh Jon, if you had said you were Jon Stark, I could have arranged a union…” Tyrion really believed that. In fact, he had thought before Jon’s arrival that, if Jon was crowded, he could be the perfect alliance, with mutual benefits. The North hadn’t supported Aegon, and only a few northerners had marched with Stannis. There wasn’t a strong bad blood. A marriage could restore Daenerys’ image in the eyes of the people and provide an alliance to the biggest kingdom; while it would give Jon a strong army and three dragons to fight his war.

“Yes, I’ve heard about Aegon. How he tried to arrange a union with her. And how she killed him.”

“Only because he lied about his blood!”

“I did not lie.”

“Well, if you didn’t, you should have! An alliance through marriage would be the best course of action, but you blew it.”

Jon had thought about that too. _Maybe it is the easiest wat out_ , he thought, but he could never bring himself to do it. It wasn’t fair to give the North away when its people had trusted him, and, most importantly, he really didn’t believe the North was his to give. His dream of the crypts warned him: _You do not belong here._ Even if he argued that the alliance could potentially save the North, in his way South, he also realized Daenerys may not be a good ruler after all, and that, as King in the North, she would never look at him as an equal, and, his ego and the dreams of a happy marriage aside, he needed that if he was to lead this war. And, even if he didn’t allow the thought to develop in his mind, he couldn’t do it to Sansa. No, not when she looked at him so broken when she thought he would do it.

“Is that what you told yourself when you wed Sansa?” Tyrion caught the sarcasm in his voice. Sometimes Tyrion forgot completely that he was still married to her. He knew she was safe, at home, and he was glad for her. Jon also didn’t hold anything against Tyrion for it – Sansa had told him Tyrion was the nicest of the Lannisters to her, but that wasn’t a tough competition.

“Sansa, your whole family, are another reason you should not have done this!”

“She burned a child alive. She killed thousands of men, Tyrion. There is nothing to offer to her.”

“There is no place for forgiveness in war. Don’t act like that is not how it works, Jon Snow. You are not as idealistic as your brother Robb.”

“Do you know who I met on my way here?” Jon asked. “Your brother, Jaime Lannister.” After Tyrion finally absorbed the information, he added “Don’t worry, he is still alive.” _I forgave him, despite what he did to my family. There is place for forgiveness in war, Tyrion, if it is what a King needs to do. But Daenerys can’t see that._ For a moment, even though Jon sat at a dark corner of a small cell, it seemed like he sat at the top of the Iron Throne, and like he belonged there more than any king Tyrion had ever met.

The image was broken when two of the guards knocked on the door and announced the Queen wished to speak to Jon. Tyrion knew what that meant, but if Jon did, he didn’t give any sign of fear.

***

“You have to be out of your mind if you think there is any chance someone would believe this nonsense in a trial!” Jon had asked for a trial. He didn’t, after all, admitted to a crime, which meant he needed to be judged before Daenerys could fulfill the death sentence upon him. But she was right: Jon didn’t stand a chance in a trial.

“Then I ask for a trial by combat. Who will I be fighting, aunt?” For a second, Tyrion thought the boy might live. Jon was a good swordsman, he had heard, he wouldn't be in disadvantage, not even against Grey Worm. Daenerys, even more furious, decided:

“Rhaegal will fight for me. How funny will it be to be killed by the dragon I named after your _father_ , Jon Snow?”

***

In his first day at work, Samwell Tarly had already cried and made Sansa Stark cry. He had received a letter from Jon at the Citadel, a short one, that asked him to come back. _You will be needed here, Sam._ And with a weird request to bring, alongside notes about the Long Night, High Septon Maynard’s book or other personal information from Robert’s rebellion.

With Jon’s recommendation, Sam was well welcomed by Sansa Stark and by Ser Davos, even though Sam was hoping to finally see Jon after all this time. Sam hadn’t finish his studies yet, but he understood times were unusual, therefore Jon had called him sooner than he expected. But now that Jon wasn’t here, gone for the South, Sam was afraid it meant something else. It meant goodbye.

It was the first time Sam was in charge to read Winterfell’s correspondence, and Sansa had Rickon on her arms, teaching the boy math as she calculated their provisions. When Sam realized it was a letter from King’s Landing, he suggested that Rickon went to play in the yard, and the look of realization Sansa gave him tore his heart out, even if they hadn’t read letter yet.

Queen Daenerys had sent it herself informing that Jon Snow, the bastard of Winterfell, was accused of conspiracy, and he had chosen trial by combat. He would be fighting a dragon.

Tyrion suggested they didn’t mention in the letter about Jon’s parentage. Jon was, aside from his that, still an enemy if he decided not to bend the knee and give the North away - they could pretend that was the reason for his sentence. But Daenerys was convinced the northerners needed to know that “the North wasn’t good enough for Jon Snow. He had to claim the seven kingdoms for himself.” It made sense, Tyrion figured, because in that way Jon died as a liar to his own people. Tyrion had also tried to talk her out of the “combat with dragon” idea - he saw the resemblance between Jon’s trial to the one her father, the Mad King, had offered Jon’s uncle, Brandon Stark. He knew people would also realize that, feeding the image Daenerys had as a Mad Queen. But she was, once again, inflexible. 

In a way, the story in the letter about Jon’s parantage reduced the impact of the information about Jon’s trial. Sansa and Sam agreed not to tell anyone about it yet, but of course they couldn’t keep the secret for too long, because the news would travel North. None of them really knew what to do with the information. Did they believe it? Sam knew Jon could come up and go through with the boldest ideas, if he thought it was right. But this sounded different – and it could explain why he was interested in Robert’s rebellion. So now Sam dedicated his time to read what he had brought from the Citadel, waiting for some proof to Jon’s story, so he and Sansa could tell the North before they found out.

Sansa, on the other hand, knew in her heart it was true. It explained so much of Jon’s behavior, of his decision to go South, even though the result would be his death anyway. And, selfishly, it explained why all these feelings for him had bloomed despite her attempts to shove it down, it explained why it felt to right when it seemed to wrong. But now it only made it hurt more to lose him. She could have had him, they could have made it work, but happiness escaped from her hands once again like a butterfly.

The past days had been tough for Sansa Stark. Winterfell was harder to manage without Jon’s help, and the situation got worse every winter day, letters from the Wall about missing men, about cold and hunger. News about Jon’s travel South lowered the morale, and Sansa spent a long time writing letters comforting people about Jon’s return, even though she could barely think about it without bursting into tears.

There was no time to march South before the trial to save Jon, so Sansa suggested a peace offer. _We give her the North, if she gives Jon back alive._ It wasn’t a decision completely blinded by her love: despite of how much she hated to lose the North for Daenerys, without Jon they could lose the North to the army of the dead. But Ser Davos remembered Jon insisted that, no matter what happened, they were not supposed to bargain with her. Even though it seemed like the proper occasion to disobey Jon, Ser Davos wasn’t sure it could be arranged in time either, considering Jon wasn’t their king. Besides, he knew that Jon could bargain with her himself better than anyone. Stannis had always said Jon was good at bargaining, and if he didn’t do that yet, there was a reason for it. Somehow, Ser Davos was the one man that still believed Jon had a plan behind all this.

Jon’s parentage wasn’t the only thing Sansa was hiding from everyone. When she left her chambers at the beginning of that day, she wore the wolf shaped pin she had given to Jon, which was given back to her alongside the information Petyr Baelish was involved in her father’s murder.

Petyr Baelish was an evil man, Sansa knew that. She knew what he wanted from her, she knew he had suspicions about her feelings for Jon. She remembered what he had done to her aunt Lysa, and she had already suspected about his involvement in Sweet Robin’s death. But she convinced herself that she was being lunatic, seeing enemies where there wasn’t any – Littlefinger had, after all, saved her life. Therefore, it still crushed her to find out that the man who she welcomed at her home had killed her father and brought so much pain to her family. 

She once again felt stupid for trusting people, silly girl with silly dreams. She knew what Jon would say: she was not silly, and she didn’t own Littlefinger shit for what he had done in her favor. She felt she had disappointed him – he clearly trusted her to handle this. But could she hold a trial against Baelish? Could he win and get away? And if he did, did it mean the loss of the alliance with the Riverlands? Or worst: could he involve Sansa in his crimes?

In a twisted way, Sansa had learned from Petyr himself that the only way to take down men like him was by cleverness, by playing the game. And she thought about how Littlefinger had taken his enemies down: poisoning houses against each other.

Sansa’s eighteenth nameday was getting closer and it had been decided to host a dinner at Winter fell as a small celebration, reuniting allies to discuss war. She was against it, but the lords thought it could show how Jon’s trip South shouldn’t be a big concern for the people, even though it was not true. Now, she couldn’t care less about it and couldn’t imagine moving forward with the idea – not when Jon was going to die two days earlier. Clearly the lords realized that now and cancelled the celebration, but those who were already traveling North for the dinner – such as Baelish – would be coming over anyway.

She knew she had to decide what to do about Petyr, but she had bigger problems now. Her mind couldn’t focus on anything else, her heart ached. Jon would die and she could do nothing about it. She had to tell Rickon sooner or later, he was always asking about Jon. When she tried before to bring up the idea that Jon might not be coming back, Rickon mentioned Osha told him some men believed Jon couldn’t be killed. _They tried once to kill him, Sans, she told me, but he came back. He will again._ Sansa smiled at that and wished she was innocent enough to believe it. They once said Robb couldn’t be killed, but he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to update! I already know how Jon’s story is going to continue, but I am having a hard time with Baelish storyline. I always thought the way the show ended his story was lame and didn’t do him justice, but I can’t think of a better alternative. I think the only way to bring Baelish down would be by betrayal, but I don’t really know how to do it and I don’t want to change Sansa’s character. I have 2 ideas, but I still have to sleep on it. Hope you guys liked it!


	5. A beautiful song

Sam found the note only a day before Howland Reed arrived at Winterfell. He asked to speak with Sansa and told her about what happened at the Tower of Joy. Jon hadn’t send a letter to Lord Reed, but he did warn him that one day, when the time came, he was supposed to tell the story, and Howland Reed figured this was the time. Sansa was glad – Lord Reed was a respected man, his words would add more certainty to the story they would tell to the people. In addition, Sam would show the note from High Septon Maynard’s book that proved Lyanna Stark was Rhaegar’s second wife – apparently, Jon’s father had decided to follow Aegon's I footsteps and took two wives. _The dragon has three heads._ Sam also had been working on building a timeline from Robert’s rebellion showing how the marriage and pregnancy fitted the events.

Sam and Sansa couldn’t be sure everyone believed that Jon was heir to the Iron Throne, but they made their best trying to make it sound possible. Jon was not to be seen as a liar or a power thirsty man by his own people, and fortunately most of those who didn’t believe him at least understood Jon was trying to unite the Seven Kingdoms under a northern control. However, Daenerys was not wrong and a few men were not pleased to hear that Jon turned down Robb’s will only to make up a story to get another crown. What that meant for their independence was also a problem, but no one made a big deal out of it because no one thought Jon could live.

Littlefinger was there were the news got out. Sansa could sense how he was pleased by Jon’s decision to go South and with his deadly trial; but his smile faded a bit when he found Jon was not Sansa’s brother and that he was heir to the Iron Throne. But again, that all meant little, because Jon Snow’s life was running towards the end. _Yours too_ , Sansa thought.

Even though Jon’s ending was predictable from the minute he left Winterfell, the news that the Dragon Queen would submit him to a trial against a dragon shocked everyone. Lords found it a provocation, but it had been argued that Jon was not representing the North when he traveled South. It seemed that Jon’s death would bring no revenge against Daenerys – they just didn’t have the power for it and easily found a way to pretend they didn’t have to fight back. They would be just picking up the pieces, like the Martells, the Tyrells and everyone else that had stood up against the Queen. Sansa suggested to unite all of these houses against her, but her idea was barely discussed, and she didn’t even believe it herself.

There was a general panic, and no one really knew how to deal with Jon’s absence. Lords pretended he was just a bastard boy – their true king was Rickon, and Rickon was fine. The wildlings were inconsolable, and Val had traveled all the way from the Wall to talk to Ser Davos. She reminded him of how things were unstable at the Wall when Jon was _injured_ for the first time, how the wildlings and the kneelers fell easily into war without Jon. She worried the same would happen again.

Sansa was losing her mind. She had never felt so powerless, not even when they slayed her father’s head in front of her. Because then she was a child, because then she had believed until the very last minute that her father would live. But now this pain was dragging for months, now she had seen it coming and she hated that Jon hadn’t. She hated him for being wrong, she hated him for dying, she hated him for leaving all these things for her to handle by herself – his parentage, the Wall, the hunger, the cold, the war.

The day of his trial went by, Winterfell covered in snow. Sansa realized that this snow was the only one that would never leave her, not until the very end, when they would all perish.

***

Daenerys regretted choosing Rhaegal, and not Drogon, as her champion. She couldn’t ride Rhaegal, since she already had ridden Drogon, which certainly made it more difficult to control him. She wasn’t insecure about the victory, no, Jon would die today; but she feared for the audience that would come to the plaza to watch the combat. She had promised them safety. _The ones who are loyal to me have nothing to fear_ , she had promised, and offered food for the ones who attended. How many of those men had taken Jon’s side before and now would happily watch him die if that meant they would have what to eat?

Jon didn’t ask for any special armor or weapon – men said he owned a Valyrian steel sword with a pommel shaped like a direwolf, the sigil of House Stark, but he hadn’t brought it South. _How could a Targaryen wear that?_ Daenerys had very conflicted feelings about Jon Snow. She had to admire what he had accomplished despite being a bastard, and she heard he was a great ruler, a man of his own, unlike Aegon, who Daenerys never saw as anything but a child. She couldn’t figure if he was brave or stupid, and this doubt reminded her of her first husband, Drogo.

Jon and Drogo were nothing alike, not in appearance and not in behavior. Jon was sarcastic, even arrogant, and she hated to admit it, but he had a nobility to him that she still had never found in anyone. Sometimes, when he turned his face to the side, she noticed how his nose was alike Viserys’. _I must be seeing things_. He couldn’t be a Targaryen, no, only a fool would believe him. He was a Stark all the way, with grey eyes and black hair. He wore black, not black and red; and he had a direwolf, not a dragon. She had to ignore his mannerisms, his temper, in which she recognized so much of her own.

Daenerys was the one to unchain Rhaegal – Drogon was still the only one she let fly around freely. She wondered if Jon had heard the dragons, since his cell wasn’t so far away. When she brought Rhaegal to the arena, Jon had already been brought there. Even though he hadn’t asked, he was wearing fine clothes and the best armor they could find. _Don’t say we didn’t give him a chance_.

Daenerys couldn’t quite understand what happened next, but no matter how loud she screamed “dracarys” from her seat, Rhaegal wouldn’t obey. The audience was completely silent for a minute, and screaming “King Jon” in the next, because Jon Snow had climbed Rhaegal’s back.

“Having a trouble controlling him, _Your Grace?_ ” he asked smiling, calling Daenerys ‘your grace’ for the first and last time.

*** 

Jon Snow was still getting used to fly so high and with that speed, but the connection with Rhaegal was by now almost as strong as the one with Ghost. _Almost_. He had been warned about the dangers of entering the mind of a creature that could fly, and he was worried about how much it tired him, how much it costed his sleep and how much could it change him. Jon was pretty much sure he was the first to enter a dragon’s mind – he had tried for the first time ever since he was locked in that cell, but it was both physically and emotionally tiring. It felt like his identity crisis was repeating itself with the two animals. Was he a Stark or a Targaryen, or neither, just a bastard who had no idea what he was doing? Was he a wolf or a dragon?

He couldn’t trust that his parentage would mean he was a dragon ridder, not when the dragons were raised by the woman who was trying to kill him. Besides, he did feel like he had better control over the dragons than Daenerys – he saw her struggle to make them obey her, he saw how she feared them, not for herself but for others. He wasn’t sure he had any influence with the other two, Drogon and Viserion. For now, the other two dragons weren’t giving him a hard time, especially not Viserion; but that could be because Jon was at peace with Daenerys. Jon knew he should try to enter their minds as well, but he was afraid, so afraid he felt embarrassed for himself.

He didn’t know if he could trust Daenerys, not for the long run, but he figured she would honor her words for now. He had proved he was a true Targaryen, and heir to the Iron Throne; so she bent the knee and swore loyalty. She called him nephew, and they had an alliance: the King of the Seven Kingdoms and the Queen of Meereen – although Jon wasn’t sure she owned that tittle anymore, from what he had heard, Daenerys left Meereen in the middle of a civil war.

Jon knew he could make great use of her army, but he also knew that men were not the only thing he needed. Jon needed all the supplies he could gather if the Seven Kingdoms were to be united again - the Riverlands barely hold the belies from north the neck full, which reminded Jon that he needed an alliance with the Tyrells. The Tyrells had supported Aegon before, therefore he couldn’t count on their support as long as his alliance with Daenerys remained. The same worked for the Martells. Seven hells, what if the same worked for the North? He hadn’t handed them to her, but he was the Targaryen taking away their freedom now.

 _The North can’t be independent, not right now,_ Jon would argue with himself. Alliances between independent kingdoms weren’t strong enough against the army of the dead, and the North would be the one more harmed in that scenario. Besides, he wanted them to understand that he wasn’t a foreigner king, not for them – he was a northern in the Throne. But Jon feared he had fallen into the same trap he criticized Daenerys for, he was just justifying his own power.

He supposed he should have stayed longer in King’s Landing, established his new tittle, but the right thing to do was to go back North and handle his true obligations as king. The trip South was taking longer than he predicted, and by now it was already snowing down South. Jon blamed himself for the disaster he had left behind. _Gods, the Night’s Watch doesn’t even have a Lord Commander anymore._ The available tittle was the perfect solution to a problem Jon knew he had to deal with – he would forgive Jaime Lannister for his sins and send him to Castle Black.

Jon prayed he had made the right decision when he left King’s Landing with the three dragons. Daenerys was supposed to follow him with her army North, at peace. Maybe he should have marched with her, but the trip back would be even slower than the one he had taken on his own on the way South, considering the size of the army and the fact that the roads could be worse with the snow and that the men were not used to it. He trusted his possession of the dragons would keep her loyal, and that Tyrion wouldn’t let such a disaster happen.

Whatever was supposed to happen next, Jon was glad he could see the winter sunrise from that height, and that his home was somewhere down from there.

***

Sansa wasn’t sure if they would get a letter saying _I am sorry to inform you, but Jon Snow was eaten by a dragon at the trial_ confirming his death or if Daenerys would let the silence speak for itself, but she still waited every day for something, something that would tell her Jon had survived; or even something that would take from her this stupid hope.

She woke up the day of her name and decided that just today she wouldn’t wear the mask of Lady of Winterfell. Just today she wouldn’t go outside and smile and pretend and put others needs before her own. She would stay all day in her chambers and maybe sew something.

Her plans were interrupted when she heard the screams from outside the castle, her own guards opening her door without knocking to warn her that dragons were spotted not far away. _Gods, she has come for us, she is attacking my home._ Sansa kept asking about Rickon, but her guards wouldn’t give her any answer, so she ran away before they could stop her to look for him outside, where he would usually be playing. She saw the dragons and her legs betrayed her: she just stood there terrified as they landed right in front of her.

“You didn’t think I’d miss your nameday, did you?” Jon Snow asked, after he got off of one the dragons like it was nothing. He smiled at her like Jon had never smiled before – full of relief and joy and pure love.

***

After all, Sansa decided that her eighteenth nameday deserved the feast that had been planned before, and Jon couldn’t have arrived at better time. It wasn’t the perfect feast, they were still rationing food, but most their allies were there and Jon was there; and Sansa figured this might be the best day of her life.

Of course there was a lot to be decided: how would they feed the dragons? How would they control them? How things would be like when Daenerys arrived? Sansa realized Jon didn’t have the answer to all these questions, but for now everybody was still so high from his arrival that no one mentioned anything to him.

Sansa convinced him to just relax, they would discuss all of that tomorrow. He had traveled for almost an entire day, he was exhausted, and the dragons were too; so for now they had nothing to worry about. He had greeted everyone he needed to and went to his chambers to rest. Sansa went to woke him up for the feast, but she was not happy to find out Jon was already awake, he was petting Ghost by the bed with a worried look on his face.

There was happiness and laughter and music, everything Sansa hadn’t appreciated for so long. Jon’s worry almost disappeared when men kept telling their versions of how Jon had landed from his dragon. Drunk, they all called him king, they made names for him such as Dragon from the North, the Ice Dragon, the Ghost Dragon, the man who was half wolf, half dragon. One of them said that the North once bended for the dragons, but now the dragon was one of their own. It was funny, but it also felt as cold as the knife his men once put in his heart. 

Rickon tried his best to stay awake during the whole thing, but he was the first to retire to his chambers. Soon most men followed him, and Sansa decided to dismiss their servants, give them a night free, they would clean it all up in the morning. Baelish had the kindness to leave early as well – actually, he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to hide his frustration for much longer. Sam, Sansa and Jon were the only ones left, but Sam also went to his chambers, his face a bit swollen from all the moments he had cried during the day.

When they were alone, Sansa tried to think of something that would make the moment last longer, that would delay the moment they would both go to their separate beds. When Jon finished his drink, she said the first thing she could think of. She asked him to dance, which was probably a bad idea, because she knew Jon didn’t like to dance and because there was no music.

“But there is no music.” He pointed out. “Sansa, I am so sorry, I should have asked you before, I…”

She was ready to give it up, but he looked so sorry and so out of place that Sansa saw Jon Snow, the young boy she grew up with, not King Jon, for the first time in the night, and she would never give up on him.

“I just… I haven’t enjoyed dancing in quite a while. Back when I was pretending to be Alayne Stone, I didn’t dance much. I guess I was trying to be more like you.” She confessed. Jon didn’t answer, but he walked to her and took her hand to dance. They weren’t really dancing, just moving back and forth; but he was holding her tightly, closer than they had ever been.

“You scared me to death, you know that?” she asked after a while and she knew he was smiling, although she had her face buried in his chest.

“I had to. But I am here now, Sansa.”

“I've missed you.” Sansa said before she could think. But Jon must be drunk as well, because he answered that he missed her, too. She looked up to him and commented: “Your hair is longer. I like it”. Her hands started playing with his curls, and his grey eyes were so deep, so deep Sansa couldn’t help but fall. She leaned in and pressed their lips together, and for a moment she thought Jon wouldn’t kiss her back, but he did. It was sweet and it was deep, and it felt like the most beautiful song, and just for a moment Sansa Stark let herself believe again that life was a fairy tale. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! Jon and Sansa were not only reunited but kissed for the first time! I knew from the moment I started writing the fic that their first kiss would be like this. I tried to make it as perfect as possible - Jon and Sansa already know about his parentage, she is already 18 and the moment was filled with emotions from their time apart. Also, they were a bit drunk and dancing; so really their first kiss could not be avoided.   
> I am sorry it took me so long to write it since I already had the chapter in my head. I’ve considered ending the story here for a few days, but I guess I still have things to say. I have in my mind the answer to some of their problems already - how to control all 3 dragons, for example.   
> Hope you guys enjoyed it, I am trying my best to make it look realistic but also give my own “touch” to the story.


End file.
